“I’m not really sure how to explain it. I mean, I wasn’t, then I was. It’s like uh...it was like waking up: I was really confused and kinda scared, but then that went away. And so did the dream. And now I can’t really remember it. I don’t really like talking about it.”
Number four hundred eighty? Active.
Number four hundred eighty-one? Destroyed.
Number four hundred eighty-two? Destroyed.
Number four hundred eighty-three? Missing, presumed destroyed.
Black Mage No. 483 was created as part of a new type of the magical war dolls the good Queen Brahne was so fond of, the fourth in a set of nine. The set was meant to serve as a test group, gauging the potential effectiveness of a reworked design of the powerful Black Waltz model, trading off a bit of the immense power for more stability, against the new threat facing Gaia: creatures of pure darkness. If successful, full scale production of the Type-D would ensue. The Monsters would be destroyed, and then Alexandria might go off to conquer a sovereign nation or two.
Spoiler: it wasn’t successful.
The Type-Ds were able to considerable damage. Indeed, were they facing a normal army, the nine might have been able to carve out a huge portion of the enemy ranks before falling. But against an enemy with limitless numbers? They were doomed from the start. One after another fell to the darkspawn swarm.
But our hero was spared such a fate. As luck should have it, the darkness scourge first popped up on the Outer Continent and it was there that the prototypes were sent. But lady luck is a fickle mistress. She saw it fit for No. 483 to awaken in the middle of battle.
Ever have one of those dreams where you wake up just to end up in another dream? Well, replace dreams with nightmares for a semi-accurate portrayal of the doll’s experience. And so, he did the only thing a logical creature would do: he ran away.
-
Another pop quiz, kiddos! I know, I know, but bare with me.
Where does the doll of devastating destruction go to seek refuge?
a.) Alexandria, where he’d most likely be dismantled for malfunctioning.
b.) Lindblum, where he’d most likely be burned due to the recent black mage-induced razing of the city.
c.) Cleyra, where...wait, where’d Cleyra go? … They did
what now? Yeouch. Alright, no Cleyra.
d.) The Black Mage Village, where he’d - geez, let a guy finish before picking this answer? No? Fine. Your loss.
Jerks.
-
He ended up in the Black Mage Village by some chance. He was as welcomed as one could expect socially stunted mage dolls to be capable. The Dark Ones, as the Mages deemed them, did not touch the Black Mage Village, oddly enough. One might suspect that someone or something were leading the wild creatures. That one would not be among the peaceful people in the village though. They were content with going about their lives questioning their existence, searching for a purpose, and just enjoying not being dead.
Poor sods.
No. 483, or Mr. 483 as the villagers had taken to calling him, lived in the village for perhaps a month or so before all came to an end. One day, the light slowly faded. Then the Dark Ones were upon them. Many fell before they knew what hit them. Others were taken down as they fled. Four eighty-three tried to fight back, but it was hopeless. He should have been slain right there but…
He wasn’t. The world, however, met with a terrible fate. All went dark. So very dark. There was nothing. He was gone. He had Stopped.
…
Or not.
He awoke on a beach, to the feeling of being touched. Mainly because he was being touched.
By a...uhm…well, 483 didn’t have the word for it. It had arms. It had legs. He had arms. He had legs. But they didn’t look the same. Whatever it was, as soon as it noticed that 483 was moving, it ran off. Odd. The black mage got to its feet and tried to figure out where he was. It didn’t look like the beach he knew. The water and sand was different. Because it was. Or so he would soon discover.
The armed, legged creature returned, with a larger one in tow. The later jumped to put itself between 483 and the small one. It spoke, which amazed him. It asked him questions. What are you? I don’t know. Where did you come from? I don’t know. What are you doing? I don’t know.
The large one might have been unsure about the faceless stranger, but the smaller one took an instant liking to him. It was probably the hat. And what the little one wants, the little one gets, it would seem. They took 483 in at behest of mini-me, supplying a place to stay, a place to sleep, a place to live.
And a place to learn.
The larger creature was just as curious about the black mage as 483 was of him. Perhaps that’s what made him open his home to the alien creature. People had done crazier things in pursuit of knowledge.
They were human. Four hundred eighty-three had learned of them back in the village, though he had never seen one before. These men - err, the man went by Bruce and child Othello - were different than how the villagers described it seem. They were nice. They were kind. And it didn’t seem like they wanted to unleash fire upon their nearest neighbors. Although, it didn’t seem like they had any neighbors on their little island.
The reason he had appeared? Apparently his world had been consumed by creatures the man referred to as the Heartless. His was just the latest of many worlds to suffer such a fate. As to how he ended up on the island? That was anybody’s guess.
And thus, Mr. 483 had another chance at a quiet, peaceful life. He helped the humans with tasks around the home. His days were spent occupying Othello, playing his little games. His nights were spent discussing the world, or rather, worlds with the elder. He learned much from Bruce. The two men became the closest things to friends that he had ever had. Othello had even given him a name. GABE. The letters looked close to the black mage’s number, 483, though he added the ‘G’ so that the black mage would remember the island when he heard the name, not the number. Gabe liked it. Indeed, everything seemed to be going great.
It would not last.
Perhaps two months passed without hiccup. Then it hit. Hard. One day, the sky went dark. Just as it had in the village. And because the coincidence train keeps a-rollin’, the Dark Ones, the Heartless rather, arrived. It was just one or two at first, way out at sea. Then there were more. A lot more. The sea had turned into shadow.
The three amigos stood watching this unfold in horror from their hut. What hope was there?
There was Bruce.
The man summoned forth the oddest weapon Gabe had ever seen. It was like a giant key. It looked silly but…Bruce made Gabe hold it for a few moments. The black mage tried to protest, tried to convince the man to flee. Granted there was no where to run, but it was surely a better plan?
Bruce bid Gabe to stay at the hut, to protect Othello, then he retrieved the key from Gabe and charged out to meet the dark menace on the beach.
Gabe watched in awe. The weapon simply eradicated the shades. Bruce moved gracefully, dispatching Heartless after Heartless. One might even believe that if anyone could fight off this horde, it would be the man holding the key.
One would be delusional.
There were just too many. Bruce was overwhelmed. Gabe couldn’t bare to see his friend struggle so, but he had to follow his order. He had to protect Othello. And he would have stuck by his guns if Othello hadn’t begged Gabe, asking him to save his father.
Gabe rushed out to the fray. He conjured up flame and ice, and split foe asunder with the power of lightning. But it just wasn’t enough. There was just too many. It was the Black Mage Village all over again. He never did make it to Bruce. At first, he could just follow the gap in the swelling dark mass, but then that ceased, and the only refuge from the darkness was the area immediately surrounding the magicslinger. It was futile.
Othello screamed.
Gabe did too.
Gabe burnt a path back to the hut, and found nothing but horror within. It was flooded with Heartless. There was no sign of Othello.
Failure.
He couldn’t protect his friends.
They were…
They were…
Gabe lost it. He opened his hands, beginning to channel flames to his hand. He got a surprise. A key. Or rather, Bruce’s key. There was no time to question it, though. Gabe swung it wildly, striking the wild shadows and causing them to burst into darkness and release...something that flew into the air and disappeared. Again, no time to question it. Gabe attacked relentlessly but...well, he didn’t make much of a knight. He tired quickly. It looked like he would be overwhelmed.
Oh well. Might as well stick to what he was comfortable with. Gabe channeled his magic into the key, using it as a focus, then unleashed his flame. It eradicated the Heartless before him...and it released those things into the air again.
Bingo.
For the next while, Gabe unleashed magical fury upon the Heartless. But it just still wasn’t enough. Gabe used up the last of his energy. He could hold back the dark horde no longer. He lost consciousness and fell to the ground.
And then he awoke. Again. Once more cheating death, Gabe found himself in a place unlike anything he had seen before. He later learned that it was called Traverse Town. He learned a lot in Traverse Town, actually spending about a month there. The people he met and stories were diverse and exciting, but those are tales for another time. This one ends with our hero as he steps forth from Traverse Town and sets out into the unknown, determined to see the world with his own eyes for a change. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be lucky enough to find Othello or Bruce along the way.
Spoiler alert.
He won't.
